


August

by newtandthediamonds



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fingering, First Love, Fluff, Frottage, Loss of Virginity, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Summer Romance, Tiny bit of sadness but overall incredibly lovey and soft, Vaginal Sex, this is so fluffy and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 11:43:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtandthediamonds/pseuds/newtandthediamonds
Summary: With their imminent separation when college starts only weeks ahead of them, Bill and Y/N enjoy the summer together.





	August

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking about maybe making a part two to this? If you enjoyed this please let me know in the comments and leave a kudos :)

Being away from one another is always something that takes a toll on them.

Usually, they're glued together and it would take a force of nature to separate them, but she had left for a week to visit family and that only added to the anticipation they were both feeling towards the day after she planned to come home.

For most of their relationship, they hadn't talked much about this, about when it would happen or the details, but it was her, much to his surprise, who first brought it up. Never in a million years did he think it would be her who would ask him, but she always finds new ways to surprise him, so he shouldn't have been too shocked.

Y/N was a little late with things.

She was the last of her friends to drink or smoke, the latter she did once and never felt inclined to try again to the point where even smelling cigarette smoke near her makes her scrunch her nose in disgust (though she isn't inclined to drink anytime other than Holidays). She was the last to learn to drive, despite being the oldest of the Losers, and she's the last virgin of the group.

It's not that she never wanted to have sex or didn't have the urge to, it's just that she never had the chance to. She and Bill began dating at the beginning of their last year of High School and now it's August and the last summer they have together is passing them by quickly.

A warm breeze eases into the room, only slightly disturbing the closed curtains and letting light peek through.

Y/N is sitting cross-legged on the bed, sat with her back against the headboard watching him attentively as he walks across the room to her from where he'd been closing the blinds. He stands tall above her and even when he sits down, the mattress dipping with his weight, he makes her feel quite small by comparison.

The way that the one ray of sunlight that manages to slip through the curtains falls on his face makes the pace of her heart quicken.

It's silent for a moment before she opens her mouth to speak.

"How, exactly, do we even start?" She lets out an awkward, but ultimately charming huff of laughter that makes him want to smile, "I'm obviously not the experienced one here."

Bill isn't a virgin.

It doesn't bug her anymore that he's not on the same page as her. It used to, it used to get under her skin a lot knowing that someone else had experienced his first time with him, but when it became apparent how obviously head over heels he is for her she couldn't find it in herself to care. She knew before they were even together when he had had sex for the first time.

It was early on in High School with someone they both had English with that year and she can remember the feeling that always stirred in the pit of her stomach when she saw that girl every day after he told the Losers what happened. It was an irrational, stupid feeling that made her want to roll her eyes at herself, but she was jealous. That was long before they ever came close to admitting they had feelings for each other, let alone getting as physically close as he and that girl had. The farthest they've ever gone together is making out (every chance they get, anywhere they can; his car, their rooms, the Kissing Bridge-literally anywhere, anytime they find a chance as of late) and over the clothes touching that was enough to leave her breathless every time, despite the fact that she knew it must have been nothing compared to what he's experienced.

Bill, unbeknownst to her, is just as nervous, if not more than she is.

He can tell that she's lost and isn't sure of what to do and doesn't know if he could ease the tension in the air between them if he tried. His experience is a lot compared to her's. He's had sex a handful of times and they weren't the most romantic encounters he's ever had, in fact, he's pretty sure they weren't romantic in the slightest. What happened with the first girl he was with was a spur of the moment decision they found themselves in after the end of a party for the swim team they were both on that year. It was more of a "both of us haven't yet so why don't we do it with each other" kind of thing that was more fumbling and awkward than it was romantic, though it was the most romantic connection he'd experienced, outside of his crush on Y/N, at the time.

Before that, he'd wanted it to be her, but he gave up at a certain point when it seemed that nothing would ever happen between them. He was wrong about that.

He's nervous too, afraid that he might not live up to her expectations or that he might hurt her, but he's sure that she's already anxious and seeing him nervous as well would only worsen it.

Bill looks her up and down from where he's sitting in front of her, trying his best not to look too antsy with the whole week of anticipation and waiting that's lead him here. They spent the first half the day with the Losers making up for the time she spent away and the rest, for the last few hours, by themselves at his place, so the time they've spent here alone has mostly been the both of them silently wondering to themselves when they're going to do it or if it's going to even happen at all.

His hand gently brushes her's where it rests on one of her knees, his fingertips barely sliding along the palm of her hand before he notices that her hand is shaking. It's almost unnoticeable, but it's there.

She can instantly see the hesitancy on his face as he lifts his head to look at her.

"Are you s-s-sure you w-want to?" His voice is gentler than she remembered it ever being with anyone before. And that alone makes her lip curl slightly in a smile that makes him want to take her into his arms right now.

Is she sure? It almost makes her want to laugh, but that'd surely be a weird response to his question. She's wanted him for years and isn't intending on backing out now. The only reason this didn't happen sooner was their decision to take it slow since taking things quickly didn't seem to work well from a past experience of his with one of the girls he'd been with. It wasn't like they hadn't had the opportunity. They're about to leave for college and he has absent parents, while she has parents who let her go off to hang out with the Losers all day long with only the request for her to check in every few hours or so. They've had plenty of chances. Hell, there were times that she even wondered if she was being an idiot for not taking such an obvious, glaring chance to jump his bones, but decided not to in the end. If he ever had a problem with waiting, it didn't show. On nights like those when they'd be making out on his bed, in an empty house with nothing stopping them, she wasn't pressured to do anything.

Y/N says, equally as soft, "I'm sure. I'm completely sure, I just don't know where to start."

There's a look on his face for a moment like he's contemplating what he wants to say, his face flushed, that makes her want to quirk an eyebrow at him, but he moves before she can.

It's awkward at first, the sudden shift in the air and the subtle squeak of a mattress in a quiet room as he moves to be closer to her and the hand that was resting on her's moves to settle on her thigh. But she doesn't falter once, even when he crowds her space, getting close enough to give her a kiss that she reciprocates with enough passion to make him feel a little weak in the knees before he pulls back enough to look her in the eye.

He's sat in front of her again while she sits with her legs crossed, a bit too much distance between them than either of them would like. But there's too much uncharted territory about to be crossed for him to move it along quicker, if they go to fast it wouldn't be enjoyable and it wouldn't be fair to her.

So, he asks.

"Do y-you touch yourself?"

The bluntness of the question catches her off guard, despite the nature of what's happening, and her face instantly feels warm, among other places. She's blushing more than she ever has.

And watching her begin to blush is adorable to him, her eyes widening and biting her bottom lip nervously.

The answer in her head is,  _"Who doesn't?"_  but for the first time in forever with him, she's shy. They've always been honest and frank with one another from the beginning, he'd tell everything and in return, she would do the same, but something about this interaction feels different and she didn't know how to handle it. The way he's looking at her makes her want to press her legs together, but doing so would be so obvious and would probably make that coy, boyish smile widen into something a lot smugger.

It was the way he said it that made her react so much or maybe the fact that she never had someone ask such a question before outside of her friends having zero boundaries and her not answering those questions. It was so casual, as if he were asking her what she wanted to eat for breakfast or if she takes sugar or milk in her tea.

He'd said it so casually because, for him, as a guy, it's always been casual. Of course he jerks off, everybody does. Girls don't talk about it, they're shamed away from it and with how close they are he'd forgotten that she probably isn't used to that question at all. Or even admitting that she does touch herself.

She makes sure to not let her voice shake when she opens her mouth to speak.

"Yes."

Their eye contact verges on an intensity she couldn't have seen coming and that in itself helps ease some of her nerves; seeing how much he wants this too, seeing what her response does to him.

Even with the breeze from outside coming in through the windows, it feels warmer to him when she says that word. He figured, but hearing it from her made his breath catch in his throat. But he doesn't miss a beat and that hand on her thigh is sliding up to her hip now, the space between them dwindling.

"Can  _I_ touch you?" Bill asks, then quickly amends, the nerves he so far had done a fair job at hiding peeking through for a moment, "You can s-s-show me, if you want, what you like..."

Nevermind,  _that_  makes her blush worse than she ever has before. The idea of him touching her like that, of course she's thought about it, but now she's  _really_  thinking about it and how it's about to happen and all she needs to do to make it happen is say one little word. She gets lost in her head for a second and he waits, watching her intently while she works it over in her mind. Show me. The words echo in her mind. Show me. Show me-

Bill's hand, long fingers and a flat, wide palm soft and prodding, runs up and down her side absentmindedly and it's so distracting as she's trying to form a response that she has to grab him by the wrist.

"Please," She says into the remaining space between them and the hand holding one of his wrists grips tighter with the short, clipped word.

He can't help but oblige.

By the time he's leaned down halfway to her, she's gotten the message and met him there. The soft noise that leaves her mouth the moment their lips meet makes him start to feel the blood rush away from him and he can feel how eager she is, but holds himself back.

Despite any urge his brain has to move things along, there's no rushing tonight. It's sweet that she chose him and that she trusts him this much and he doesn't want her to not enjoy her first sexual experience like so many other women unfortunately do. So, he kisses her back gently and lovingly and is careful to not lay too much of his weight on her as he moves between her legs.

And there's a moment between what he's trying to say, the words too choked to come out because their change in position is distracting, and when he speaks that everything is silent save for the sounds of them kissing and the heavy, labored exhales they let out that they can't help but want to stay in forever. Between all that's going on in the world and then their lives, tiny and insignificant by comparison, there's this love they have for each other that awes them every time they're together. They would have done anything for each other when they were only friends, but now it's different. Now that's been amplified to the nth degree and they couldn't back out of these feelings if they wanted to.

It takes an incredible amount of focus for Bill stop kissing her to say, "S-S-S-Show me."

There's a dip of silence in the room and then a shaking breath falling loose from her parted lips. She looks up at him through her lashes, one hand cradling his jaw, as she tries to find words.

They got together in the fall of last year, among the changes of the seasons and the chaos of their last year of school together, another change was them. For most of the time their Losers' Club has been together, they remained just friends. But neither of them ever felt only platonic feelings for one another.

Bill had been the first to recognize what he felt for her.

It was in ninth grade and they'd known each other a few years, although the year before had been when they really became friends as it was the same year all of them banded together to fight It, and one day something changed. It happened in a matter of moments; one, she was the friend he'd always known her to be, another one of the guys like Richie and Bev, and the next he couldn't stand beside her without wanting to hold her hand or kiss her. He still isn't sure what the catalyst had been, but as long as it got him to where he is, to her, he doesn't care. In a world where his parents didn't care and his little brother was taken from him, his friends were all he had. She was all he had. And it goes both ways.

When that summer came and went, along with it came and went their respective childhoods. That thing, It took something from them when it left and she hasn't been the same since. In the company of her friends, she's pure, quiet sweetheart by comparison to her boisterous friends. But none of that gentle kindness can remove or hide what they'd gone through together.

She trusts him with her life and nothing could change that, even if the idea of intimacy might be overwhelming to her at first. If it's with him, it's not so scary anymore. How could she be afraid beside him when he's so fearless? He makes her feel brave, he makes her feel alive, and, for that, she can't help but love and trust him with all of her heart.

The position they're in makes her heart race; his mouth a fraction of an inch from her's, his chest barely hovering over her, and his hips settled perfectly up against her. Feeling him slightly hard against the apex of her thighs, even through a few layers of clothing, makes her want to move into that small bit of pleasure, to get some kind of relief. A small part of her can't believe she got him so worked up already.

His eyes, bright enough to put the bluest of oceans to shame, hold her there and make her feel the need to move, to just get her hands on him already. It's, more specifically, the way he's looking at her like she's the most precious thing to ever exist that is making her even more eager.

"Okay," Y/N whispers, only loud as she needs to be for him to hear her, even though the house is empty.

But then she grabs him by the hands, making him furrow his brows at her for a second in confusion, before guiding them onto her.

The room is mostly wreathed in shadow and the small bit of lamplight that reaches them, but there's a sliver of sunlight breaking through the gap in the curtains that shines directly onto them and does nothing but aid the rising heat raging in their blood. Bright, warm sunlight illuminates his hands as she places them on her abdomen, her own still molded overtop them. It highlights the white and blue fabric of her striped button down in the golden orange shades of the sunset just outside his bedroom window and paints her in a color so gorgeous that he doesn't know what to do with himself looking down at her. It makes him want to write about her, paint her, and he isn't sure if he'll be able to endure not telling her that she is so he ends up whispering it, their hands still stationary on her abdomen.

"Y-You're so beautiful."

She kisses him in return and it's the kind of kiss he wants to savor. Appreciative and loving yet somehow demanding and desperate. She has this way of being sexy and a sweetheart at the same time that drives him out of his mind.

They gently push her shirt up her torso, the fabric soft on the delicate skin beneath that he's never had the pleasure of touching with his own two hands until now. She only pulls her shirt up to her ribcage, but their hands slip underneath the hem and his palms fit so well on the rise and fall of her breasts; instinctively giving her a gentle squeeze that makes her have to bite back the sound that rises in the back of her throat.

Then one of his hands is sliding down the length of her body. Her skin is warm underneath his palm and she can help but think of how different it his when he's touching her. His hands are larger than her's, for one, so they cover more space on her stomach, that jerks inward at the feeling of his touch slowly going past, her own hand still guiding him. But there's not much else she can't put into coherent thoughts about why it's so different, it simply is. When she touches herself it feels good, but not like this. When he's touching her she feels like every nerve in her body is being caressed, it feels like her body is on fire.

Neither of them even register how quickly her jeans come undone, only that it happens and that their hands dip underneath the waistband of her pants and underwear.

Bill can hear her breathing halt at his fingertips being so close to her this way and he pulls back from kissing her for a moment to watch her. And it's almost frustrating, how painstakingly slow he takes to get to where she wants him despite the fact that she still has her hand on his, trying to guide him lower.

The sound she makes when he presses down on her clit makes him have to bite down on the inside of his cheek it's so hot. He isn't sure she realizes how she sounds or what it does to him, but nevertheless, it's a noise he wants to hear her make again.

Y/N's chest deflates with a deep, shaking exhale.

The farthest they'd gone only a minute ago had been some tame over the clothes second base action and now he's listening to her breathing shake with pleasure with every teasing brush of his fingertips on that incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves. It's too gorgeous to ignore; the way her mouth parts open slightly and the sounds that escape anytime he does anything. He forgot for a second before touching her in this way, forgot how inexperienced she is and the difference between them when it comes to that. Though it changes person to person, he knows what can make a woman writhe and moan. He's been here before, she hasn't. This is something she's never felt before and the fact that he has this much of an effect on her makes him start to fully harden against her.

The hand that had been resting on his moves to grip him by the shoulder, her nails digging in just enough to make him shiver, and she begins to move against his hand on instinct alone, which surprises her. She hadn't expected her body to simply know what to do. To act on instinct alone. But it feels so good and she can practically feel her body begging for more, so she grinds her hips against where his hand is shoved down the front of her jeans.

This alone nearly makes him come undone, the sight and feeling of her doing this, his fingers already becoming slick with her wetness the more he touches her and the more she moves on him. He's so hard that he almost feels lightheaded.

"D-D-Do y-y-y-y-" Bill stops, shutting his eyes and trying to focus on what he wants to say before opening his mouth again, "D-Do you w-wuh-want me to do more o-o-or are you c-c-c-comfortable with this for n-now?"

She can see the shame he's fighting to keep from his face, at not being able to speak and how intensified it is when he's in a situation like this. The hand on his shoulder shifts up from there, gliding along until it's cupping his cheek.  He stopped rubbing those toe-curling, tight circles at the apex of her thighs when he began speaking so she nudges him with her hips and that by itself; a press of her body against that prominent, hard bulge at the front of him makes him hiss through his teeth.

Her thumb gently caresses his cheekbone and she decides, "More, definitely more."

But bracing herself for the onslaught of the pleasure, for the feelings of lovely, spine-chilling pleasure to return, didn't prepare her for him sliding his middle and forefinger into her.

She didn't realize how  _long_  his fingers are, though she had seen when she was watching his hands on her chest how much larger his are compared to her's, she hadn't realized how it would feel when he would be pushing them inside of her.

And it takes a second for her to adjust at first. Yes, she's done this to herself before, but it's been a while and even though he's been gentle and gone slowly she finds herself tensing from the pressure. So she kisses him instead. While she adjusts and to distract herself, she leans up and kisses him.

He opens his mouth to her immediately, moving into the kiss with a need she never really felt him have before. He's gotten hard while they've made out before but this is different. Right now he's trembling and anytime she brushes up against him and that immeasurable tension eases even a little bit, he's practically putty in her arms.

When she does start to move on him again, this time with his fingers buried in her, she's quiet.

She's biting down on her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as she draws her hips back from him so, so slowly and then sinks back down onto his hand.

It's careful at first, how he thrusts his fingers into her. He's afraid of doing too much too fast and hurting her in the process, but feeling her move back against him with every movement he makes, there's no doubt in his mind that she's enjoying this just as much as he is, if not more.  _More, much more_ , he decides because after when he adds a third, her returning kiss is so fervent. Every pump of his fingers sends her reeling and gasping and kissing at him, so desperate as he's starting to bring her towards that peak. She's never brought herself there before, so she doesn't recognize that feeling stirring in the very pit of her abdomen that she wants to run toward and never let go of.

Y/N eagerly drops her hand from his cheek down the length of his torso, appreciating every contracting muscle she can feel on him the entire way down until she gets to the waist of his pants-

And the sound he makes when her hand slides into his pants, then his underwear, and wraps around him; it nears the edge of being obscene. He's hot to the touch and as she runs her hand down the length of him experimentally, she hadn't expected him to be so hot. Though it makes sense when she manages to think about it through everything else, with all of the blood rushing there he's practically throbbing. She can feel him twitch in her hand, as well as feel the deft movements of his fingers caressing deep inside of her falter, when she brushes her thumb over the head of it. So responsive, it's only fuel to the fire within her; being able to do that to him.

But when his thumb presses down on that bundle of nerves and rubs in time with every perfect thrust of his fingers, she can't even begin to focus enough to keep kissing or touching him.

Bill watches her head fall back onto the pillow, away from him, and gives her everything, holds nothing back, and the result of that is beautiful. It's her gasping his name, turning her face into the pillow and not being able to keep herself from rushing full force into a feeling she's never felt before. He interlaces his hand into her's as she comes.

It overwhelms her when it hits. There was only her and him, alone, and then there's this titanic, crashing wave slamming into her that she hadn't known to expect. But it's bliss. Her head is tilted is back and her hand is squeezing his so hard that her fingertips go white and as it crests, she goes boneless in his arms. The love between them solidifies into something palpable around them as he helps her ride it out. She's clinging to him for dear life and that makes his heart swell with that same love. There's something about seeing her like this for the first time that makes him want to hold onto her forever. It must be something about being the first to make her feel this way, but he's overwhelmed too. Even though he's not the one coming down from an orgasm for the first time, he feels like his senses are overloaded because there's nothing there except love and desire.

Bill presses kiss after kiss to her cheek and strokes the back of her hand with his thumb while she pants heavily, chest rising and falling at a pace so fast. He stays this way above her for as long as she needs and watches as her breathing begins to level out.

The faint feeling of his hands tracing comforting lines up and down her waist brings her out of her haze, eyes fluttering open to find him above her again. Even he'd faded away for a second there and everything, the room, the man in front of her, all of it gave way to this new, blistering feeling that had wiped her mind clean. How he made her feel...she lets out a heavy breath.

"Are you o-oh-okay?" Bill murmurs, thumb brushing her exposed hipbone, "You're still a bit d-d-distant-"

His words are cut off by her pushing him over onto his back and the sound of his laughter once the initial confusion at their change in position passed runs along her bones like a cool summer breeze.

Everything about her sets his heart on fire. Makes him feel like the sun is always shining as long as she's in the room with him and so right now, with her legs on either side of his hips and her hands cradling his face in a sweet kiss, he feels that darkness and perpetual guilt that seems to follow him everywhere begin to gutter out. There's something about her, other than the fact that it's simply her and that's enough, that makes him soft. The touches of his hands on her body are firm and every one intentional, yet at the same time so caring and gentle. With her, he doesn't feel the need to be the leader or in control. With her, he can relax and let her guide him through it seamlessly. Without any stress or guilt or any of the things that constantly haunt him.

Y/N's unbuttoned jeans brush against the exposed skin of his abdomen, his shirt having been discarded the moment after she pushed him onto his back, with every roll of her hips on him. The movement is unconscious, neither of them register it, only that it feels good and they want more from each other, but they stay like this for a few minutes; her chest, braless beneath that button down she'd thrown on after showering a few hours ago, is flush against his and he wishes more than anything to take off that layer between them to feel her skin warm against his.

"Can I t-tuh-take this o-off?" He asks.

All she does is hum in response, with the slight feeling of her nodding into their kiss that resumed immediately after he finished his question, and then he's hiking the shirt up her chest with no small amount of eagerness. The air feels cold on her breasts at first, even though she'd felt so hot only a moment ago due to all they've been doing, but it only lasts a few seconds before his hands are on her.

For a little while, the situation speeds up much faster than he'd promised himself to let it and they're taking each other's clothes off piece by piece, hand itching to get on previously untouched skin, with this certain sense of purpose rooted deep inside of them. And throughout it all, he's nearly ready to come in his underwear because she keeps teasing him relentlessly; leaving too-light touches on him through the material of his pants and then once they got those off of him, over his underwear, until there's nothing left and she's just touching him and him alone and it feels so fucking good that he has to stop her or else he'd've ended up ending this far too quickly.

There's a small stretch of time between Bill reaching over her to open his bedside table and when he's back, looking down at her, her now back underneath him, that she feels shy. Being naked in front of him and laying everything completely bare; it's scary. She's never been naked in front of someone in this way before and it makes her want to cover herself up, but then she sees the way he looks at her and all of that begins to crumble. This entire time, he's been looking at her in a way that makes her have to press her thighs together to relieve the ache he causes there and it's hard to think straight whenever she meets his glance. And while he's focused on getting the condom on, she's memorizing his face when he's looking away. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth in concentration and there's a deep flush to his cheeks, then there's the minute details like the stray beauty mark on the edge of his jaw or the subtle flecks of gold within that beautiful blue surrounding the pupils of his eyes. She's greeted with those eyes when he looks back to her finally.

Y/N rests her hands on his biceps when he first pushes into her. His hand is tilting her chin up to him so that he can press his lips to her's. He does it slow, feeling as if he has to be as gentle in kissing her as he is in making that initial painstakingly slow thrust into her, and hearing her wince in pain makes him stop for a second to let her adjust even if he isn't all the way in yet.

He waits a little bit longer than necessary to move again, probably because he's someone who worries needlessly over the people he loves, but it's only when she wraps an arm around his waist, giving him a small tug towards her, that he pushes the rest of the way in inch by inch until he's buried in her completely. Until she's gripping him by the arms so hard that he almost begins to wonder if there will be bruises in the shape of her fingers there tomorrow.

The only sound in the room is them; his soft groans every time one of them shifts too much while she's trying to somehow adjust to the feeling of him inside of her, much more than she's ever felt considering that she's only touched herself before and he's much bigger than a few fingers.

It's still a new, kind of unpleasant feeling when he draws back from her and carefully, very languidly, thrusts back in. But it reduces with every second and slowly, it isn't so overwhelming and he can feel her move into the pleasure, bending to it rather than away.

With one hand holding her leg up at his hip, he starts to rock against her and she, which surprises him, meets every one halfway. It's quite a sight; when she looks down, forehead resting on where his neck and shoulder bridge together, at where they connect. It instantly makes that small, budding bit of feeling she now recognizes after what he'd done to her earlier, bloom into something more. Something that makes that fire ignite again. When he got her off earlier, she didn't realize what was to come, this is just on another level entirely. Having him actually inside of her-she always heard absolute horror stories from other girls about their first times and expected the worst. That you're supposed to not enjoy it, it hurts worse than anything you've felt before, and that you won't be satisfied but that isn't the case. Perhaps it's because they were with someone who had zero experience or blatantly didn't care about their gratification in the situation, because as much as she was jealous for it a few years ago, he knows what he's doing.

With every beautiful rut of his hips hitting her's, she feels so full of him that she has to push her head back into the pillow even harder and with him whispering in her ear of things that she didn't even think of him saying in her most indelicate fantasies, she knows that she'll be instigating much of these interactions from here on out. Though, in all fairness, she can't think of anything too dirty before getting beat red and wanting to run and hide, so anything he's saying right now is enough to make her melt.

She weaves her fingers into his hair, her voice breathless, "Bill."

That makes the returning thrust hard, his hips simply jerking involuntarily, and he moans into where he's pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses just below her ear in an attempt to find her sweet spot. And it's almost too much, hearing such a deep, sexy sound so close to her ear while trying not to gasp at the spot he hit so deep in her.

And she can feel herself getting to that point again, where everything but her and him completely evades her and there's nothing but that building ecstasy lying in wait. All she needs is a push.

Bill picks up on this and adjusts slightly. Sliding an arm under her lower back to lift her hips up slightly and his other hand between them to rub at the apex of her thighs, and then she's falling apart in his arms.

It's twice as forceful this time, as she's sent over the edge entirely. He's still kissing her and whispering to her and helping her through it and it only makes it last longer, it only makes it stronger. Hearing his voice and feeling his lips at that spot just at the corner of her jaw that makes her see stars while she tilts her head back into the insurmountable amount of pleasure he's giving her.

She's hardly coming down from it when he nears his end, something unintelligible falling form his lips as he gets so close to release and chases that end desperately until he's there; stilling inside of her with a last few erratic jerks of his hips against her's.

In the end, his head is resting on her heaving chest, the both of them completely spent, as they come down from their respective highs. He had pulled out of her and disposed of the condom before falling back down onto her in that lulling post-orgasm high. His hair is damp with sweat when she runs her fingers through it, the vibrant auburn color not as visible in the now darkness of his bedroom. The sunset who-knows-how-long-ago and the only light in the room is his desk lamp, and god knows neither of them was inclined to pause what they were doing to change that. But it's light enough for her to see him through the partial darkness of his bedroom as she brushes his hair back from his face.

Still out of breath, Bill asks, "Y-Y/N?"

She hums contentedly in response as if to say,  _"What?"_

"I love you."

Neither of them can begin to comprehend the emotions flooding through them right now, but that was the best he could do to sum it up. It's especially perplexing to her though, since all of this is such new territory and the fact that it was him...they spent a long time pining after one another and now, months into this relationship, she still can't believe it's real. That the boy who she grew up with and went through hell with is in love with her.

That wasn't the first time he said it.

He first told her he loved her a long time ago, when they were in middle school and that disastrous summer came. He hugged her before they went down there all together, all seven, and told her he loved her. At the time, he meant it in a different way. In the way you love your best friend. But the first time he said it to her in this way, the romantic, "I'm completely gone for you" kind of way, was after a particularly difficult day. George's birthday. She'd been there for him the whole time and helped him through it so much, even if that was what people who care about you are supposed to do it still made him want to tell her how much it meant. Because he never got that kind of consolation about his brother from his parents and there was only so much he could do on his own, but she was there. He said it because of the little things, he realized. Little things she says and does that are so sickeningly sweet and kind-hearted, only because she cares for him so deeply. Only because he's Bill and she loves him. It came out casually, as most things do when it comes to them, as if he were telling her he'd see her tomorrow or that the Losers wanted to hang out. It felt right.

And it feels just as natural now, even more so after the day they've had. He can't help but feel closer to her right now and he's sure she feels the same.

She returns the sentiment, softly, lovingly, and it makes him fight off the urge to fall asleep right there on her to move up to be face to face with her.

Their noses bump as he leans closer to her and he wants to stay here with her forever. But instead, he kisses her. Deeply, lovingly, and it makes her fight off the urge to fall asleep to keep kissing him and talking to him.

They end up laying there, amid the messy sheets and blankets they've wrapped around themselves, and do just that. After all, there are only so many days of August left before they have to go their separate ways for college and after that, these moments won't be so plentiful anymore.

The thought of that makes her frown.

"W-What's wrong?"

Y/N shakes her head, as if to clear mind, and then meets his concerned glance. She was resting her head on his shoulder, so she props herself up so she can face him better, her hand lying flat on his chest. It's hard to decipher the look on her face. She was practically overjoyed only a few seconds ago and suddenly looked like she saw a ghost.

So he runs a hand up and down her arm comfortingly, his other still holding her's from when they were kissing.

"Promise me that when we leave everything won't change, that it won't be the end for us."

It's silent for a moment, concern turning into confusion, then-

"Y/N..." Bill murmurs, pulling her into his arms, "Don't e-e-even think like that, we aren't going to..."

But both of them know it happens to the best of relationships. Even when you think it never could. He's warm against her skin and she considers not responding, instead opting to cuddle into his side further, but she can't. She looks at him, nothing but that kindness he adores so dearly in her eyes, and he looks back. The hand resting on his chest ventures upwards to his neck, thumbing over a faded mark she'd made there sometime in the last two weeks or so. Sometimes she wonders if they were fools for not making a move years ago, they had so much time why hadn't they used it?

She almost gets stuck staring off into the abyss of those beautiful blues, but this is too important for her to be distracted from. It's too hard to ignore.

Despite the sorrow, her voice is steady, "Promise me you'll love me, now and always. Even when there's so much space between us."

His hands cradle her face, the touch something she instinctively leans into, and props himself up on an elbow, his features softening the longer he looks at her. He's quick to counter, "And p-promise me you'll always love me back, even if I'm being an absolute idiot," soft laughter from her, music as far as he's concerned, fills the air around them, "that no matter what, you'll have a place for me in your heart and I'll have a place for you in mine."

Their faces are so close that the tips of their noses are almost touching, but neither of them make a move to close that distance, not yet.

She raises her eyebrows at him, an amused expression crossing her face as if she were saying " _I asked you first_." There's always been this unspoken communication between them. Words never seemed necessary, especially considering his speech impediment. Feelings and actions were always enough.

So he leans a bit closer, halfway of that small space between them that's left, and the smile fades from his face when he opens his mouth to speak.

"Promise," Bill whispers.

There's a few seconds of idle time where they're staring at one another and she can feel the electricity between them, almost feeling like she couldn't say a word through it. But she manages.

She nods against the touch of his hands on either side of her face, saying so low that even he can barely catch it, "Promise."

He closes the rest of the distance between them, shutting his eyes and savoring the feeling of her lips against his as if he'll never feel it again.

It's daunting; the idea of having to live that far away. For years now they've always been a walk of a few streets away from each other and this won't be easy. But despite how hard it might be to get through the next few years, those promises will never be broken. How could they be when they both know that even if they were separated somehow, there would always be a part of them, deep down, that were still desperately in love and locked away in his bedroom on a hot summer day that they once wished to live in forever.

Even if they lose each other one day, no matter how unlikely a possibility that seems, they'll always have August.


End file.
